


CROOKS

by raingiver



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Angst and Humor, Canon Compliant, Character(s) of Color, Dysfunctional Family, Family Issues, Friendship, Gen, Ghost Hunters, Ghosts, Growing Up, Hurt No Comfort, Mystery, Original Character-centric, Possession, Slow Build, Swearing, Telepathic Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-01-20 16:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18528529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raingiver/pseuds/raingiver
Summary: For the longest, Winnie Gallows wanted something stable in her life. Becoming the host of a ghost was probably the least stable thing she could've chosen to do. Add a ghoul hellbent on dragging her down, a brooding delinquent, and a meddling Phantom in the mix and the results are never pretty.





	1. SPELLBOUND

**_“Following the footsteps_ **

**_Of a rag doll dance_ **

**_We are entranced_ **

**_Spellbound”_ **

**_-Spellbound,_ ** **Siouxsie and the Banshees**

 

* * *

 

If there was anything Winnie disliked the most about Casper High, it was Mr. Lancer’s office.

It wasn’t the fact that they couldn’t afford another vice principal apparently, no, it was the fact that she was there so often. And the funny part of it was, it wasn’t even an office, technically. It was the same room he taught in, just like he always had, and she swore to herself that the pale blue walls made her sick. This week, she had been running on her stolen powdered donuts (sorry, Mom) and fumes alone. This was just the icing on the cake, it seemed like.

“...Miss Gallows?”

“I hear you,” she acknowledged, albeit groggily, the anger that coursed through her veins was long gone, that disappeared the moment she stepped into the room. “How long am I getting?” 

“How long do you think you deserve, Winifred?”  
  
Winnie groaned, biting her tongue. She was so, so very sick of his quips and attempts at counseling - she knew he tried very, very hard. But, at the moment, it seemed as if he was enjoying this. “Can I just get a week? She started it, you know Brittany started it. What reason would I have to argue with her otherwise?”

“Well, considering the...unsavory word choice you used during the confrontation,” his eyes crinkled around the corners, “I think a week is fair. It’s going in the book, though.” In Winnie’s honest opinion, Brittany deserved every word of it - she shouldn’t have insulted her in the first place. It was one thing to insult her, sure. She shouldn’t have got in her face. She also shouldn’t have got that ugly spray tan, either. But that was besides the point.   
  
Winnie rolled her eyes when he pulled out the green, yellowing book, the dog ears torn and tattered. If Winnie had the choice, she would burn it - that book had followed her all throughout high school, and she knew it held every fight, argument and ill word she said. As she got older, the visits became less frequent, and this had actually been the first confrontation she’d had the entire school year.

“Sounds fair.”

Mr. Lancer gave her a skeptical look, before leaning forward in his chair, his hands clamped together. “Are you sure you’re alright, Miss Gallows?” Winnie gave a weak nod, crossing her arms, her jacket crinkling. Winnie tried to ignore the feeling his stare gave her, and suddenly, she felt very, very little.

“I’m totally fine. Tired, but fine,” Winnie told the honest truth, “Tell Brittany and her fake ass tan that I said sorry.” Snark oozed from her tone and Mr. Lancer found himself snorting, clicking his pen and scribbling quickly in his book.

“Language, Miss Gallows.”

“Sorry.”

There was a light pause, before the book closed again and Mr. Lancer glanced back up at her, “Your detention starts tomorrow, and finishes this day next week. You’re dismissed.” Winnie rose from the tattered chair, leaning over to grab her backpack quickly. “Please don’t be late, Winifred.  
  
Winnie gave no response, and closed the door softly behind her.   
  
**_Well, that ended well._ **

_I’d say the same, honestly._

 

-

 

Winnie would’ve enjoyed the bus ride home more if it wasn’t for the nagging in her head.

**_So, tell me about your day._**

_Is there a reason why you’re suddenly so interested?_   
  
**_I don’t know,_ ** then came a dramatic sigh, **_There hasn’t been much of anything, lately. It’s been, well, boring._ **

Winnie peeled her eyes open, the mirages of passing lights and buildings filling her vision. The bus was hushed today, emptier than usual. When she turned her head - left, right - the only other person on the bus was an elderly woman, her wrinkles deep and sun spots splattered upon her skin, her hair tightly wound into a white braid. The woman gave Winnie a small, quaint smile, before finally shifting her attention to the world outside of their tiny bubble.

_You’re literally attached to me, how is this boring to you?_   
_  
_ **_Sometimes, I miss my human life, you know._ **

_I can’t tell, considering how nosy you are sometimes._

**_Well, what can I say? I’m attached to some moody teenager with an attitude problem._ **

_I do NOT have an attitude problem._

_…_

_Okay, yea, I do._

**_I’m sure everyone could figure that out from a mile away._ **

_It’s not like I look mean or anything._

**_The mirror says otherwise._**

The snort echoed through her head, and the rest of the bus ride home was relatively short before she reached her stop. The woman waved and Winnie found herself waving back, starting the brief walk towards Orlok Road.

Orlok Road was a long, spanning road, set in between Amity Park’s strip and the beginning of tiny shops. Houses of all shapes and sizes covered the road, the street lamps finally beginning to flicker on and off. Cars chirped and chittered as they flew by, Winnie briskly dashing across the road.

  
The townhouse her and her mother lived in was one of the newer models on the road. This month, it had been painted the color of dried beans, as the landlord always seemed to be indecisive on what color he wanted it to be, so it always had a new coat sooner or later. The bushes were beginning to grow feral once again, weeds beginning to pop up here and there. Winnie hopped up the wooden stairs, looking up at the thin silhouette shrouded in orange in the window.

The boards creaked under her shoes as she finally made her way to her door, digging in her pockets for her keys. Before she could get them out, the door flew open, a lithe hand pulling her inside effortlessly and rushing back to the kitchen. The house was toasty as Winnie began to unlace her sneakers, placing them next to the smaller pair near the door.

The walls were painted the color of marigolds, picture frames lining along the walls, both crooked and straight, the eloquently patterned carpet sprawling most of the living room. Winnie plopped her backpack on the floor next to her shoes as well, before sliding her way across the floor towards the couch. The loveseat was worn and the deep red from it fading. Their home was full of nic-nacs and antiques, memories of the past all crammed into one tight, cramped space. But to Winnie, it was larger than ever.

“I’m home.”

“Duh,” her mother joked from the kitchen, the sound of the cutting board resounding through the house, “You were late today.”

“That I was,” Winnie sprawled herself out on the cushions, her leg hanging over the edge, “...I got in trouble today?” The cutting stopped momentarily, and Winnie heard her mother give a hum of acknowledgement. 

“Spill.”

“Mrs. Yang had us doing problems on the board, right? So….” Winnie’s story seemed to last forever, full of hysterics and over-dramatic voices of everyone involved. Her hands motioned and swayed with every word, her mother chiming in now and then (“Did she really?). By the time she was finished, the sounds of chopping and frying in the kitchen had finished, and now the aroma of tomatoes and egg was left behind. “So, yea. I have detention for a week.” Her eyes stayed shut, the day’s exhaustion slowly catching up to her.

Winnie heard the spatula hit the sink with a _clank,_ and then came the familiar, light shuffling of footsteps, drawing closer and closer. “Scoot over.” her mother whispered, Winnie lifting her head sluggishly and placing it on her mother’s thin legs.

When Winnie opened her eyes again, her mother’s dark eyes were looking down at her, her eyelashes full. Daphne Han was a beautiful woman, with her pale skin and strong cheekbones, her dark, sleek hair pulled back against her temples, the loose strands caught against the ceiling’s artificial light.. She was covered almost head-to-toe in tattoos, and at thirty-eight years old, had become one with the ink on her body. When Winnie was younger, she had hoped that she would become as breathtaking as her mother, but she had given up that dream long ago to shed into her own skin.  
  
“You’re growing up so fast,” her tone was hushed and light, “I remember when you were as big as my fist.” Winnie huffed as her mother’s hands made their way through her scalp, twisting and tangling her curls.

“You have so much ahead of you.”  
  
“I know.”   
  
“You’ve been doing so well, and you’re still doing well,” Daphne reassured her daughter, “But I want you to learn to let it go, _qiān jīn, please._ ” Winnie nodded at her mother’s words, letting them sink in. Even when she felt tired and weary, her mother’s words always managed to pull her back. “You look just like-”   
  
“I know.” Winnie interrupted her mother quickly, and the woman only gave a slight smile as Winnie’s face scrunched like a pug. There was a drawn moment, before Winnie spoke up again. “I just can’t sleep lately.” 

“Me either, actually,” Daphne admitted, “You know my door’s always open, Winnie. Always.”  
  
_I know. I know._

“You have two heads on your shoulder, remember.” she rapped her knuckle lightly against Winnie’s head, “I know he’s listening.” Winnie snorted. “Sleep for a bit, ‘kay? Dinner’s ready, but sleep. Just for a while.”

**_She knows how to ruin a moment, huh?_ **

“He says thanks. He’s shy today.”

**_When have I ever been shy?_**

_Since now, shut up and let me sleep._ _  
_

Winnie found herself quiet again, and only closed her eyes once more, letting exhaustion take over her.

Just for a while.

  
-

Winnie woke in the night to a huge, booming crash against her house.

Her eyes snapped open and she heaved forward, the rattling almost unbearable. When her vision finally focused, her clock seemed to blink back - half past three. Her blanket was tossed halfway off of her body, and her chest began to _thump, thump, thump_ in rhythm with the faint sounds of something foreign.

_Night._

**_Yes?_ **

_I’m not dreaming, right?_

The noise that came after was piercing, and something green skyrocketed past her window, Winnie yelping in surprise. There came another crackle of blue, and the dance continued along the night sky, weaving and bobbing to and fro.

**_I don’t think so._**

_So I’m not imagining Danny Phantom and his stupid fuc-_

**_Language._ **

_You didn’t stop me before._

Winnie pulled her duvet over her head, pressing her ears against her pillows, hoping that the noise would cease sooner or later. But, that never came, and instead a loud, resounding crash echoed when a portrait flew off her wall, and Winnie found herself hopping out of bed, grabbing the jacket flung over her pajamas (unicorn-patterned, how classy).

**_You can’t go back to bed._ ** _  
_

_I,_ Winnie grabbed the slippers near her bed, shoving them on, _haven’t slept in four days. I know you’re not old enough to know that that’s not healthy, right?_

**_Oh, how could I forget?_ ** Nightcrawler sighed as if he was remembering a lost romance, **_The feeling of sleep was wonderful. I wish I could do it again._ **

_Maybe you shouldn’t have been murdered then._

**_I didn’t ask to be attacked._ ** _  
_

Winnie leaned over her bed and pushed open her window effortlessly. The cool, crisp night air filled her lungs, and Winnie found herself crawling out of her window, her feet clamped onto the metal bars below. Her suspicions were correct the moment she saw the fluorescent green streak zip through the air, another blue streak zipping behind it. 

**_Oh, it’s that robot._ ** ****_  
_ **_  
_ ** _The green thing in the suit?_

**_Yes, that disgusting thing. Just tell them to move and go back to bed, I don’t want to speak to that...creature._ **

Winnie rolled her eyes, remembering the dramatic hysterics of Nightcrawler’s tales of a world she hoped she’d never get the chance to roam, full of others like him. In the past two years, she often saw glimpses and glimmers of these ghosts, as most of their encounters involved the ghost vigilante most idolized in Amity Park. In her case, everything about her was real, all flesh and blood and human.

It was just what was lurking under her surface that was the dangerous part. 

Finally, Winnie seemed to find her balance, her loose pajama bottoms whipping in the wind as she cupped her hands together. She was angry - rightfully so, and she felt the air singe around her as pure heat coursed through her body. 

“Danny Phantom! Please take your ass somewhere else!”

 


	2. ANOTHER LOVE SONG

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Winnie ruins her mother's date. For a good cause, of course.

**_“I'm sick, I'll leave you blind_ **

**_Now the time has come_ **

**_To leave this love that's left you dry_ **

**_No need to work this out now_ **

**_Cause you know there's no reason why”_ **

**_-Another Love Song,_ ** **Queens of The Stone Age**

* * *

****  
  


If there was one thing the students of Casper High’s detention loved, it was recycling day. 

Thursdays were easily the best part of the week for many of them. Sure, a teacher (usually unwilling) had to be with them at all times, but it was fun to just walk around, making a fool out of themselves while dumping trash always managed to keep Winnie in high spirits.

“Oh, shit.”  
  
Winnie licked at the blood on her thumb, hissing curses quietly to herself. The edge of the silver can in Mr. Falluca’s trash can glimmered in the fluorescent light, razor sharp. Winnie picked it up again, delicately, before flinging it into the trash can on her caddy.    


“Language, Miss Gallows.”

“Tell Mr. Falluca to  _ please  _ stop putting sharp objects in the trash, then!” she snapped back, before chucking the bin back in the room and slamming it shut.

“You good, Gallows?”

“Peachy.” she grumbled back to Mendoza, who simply grunted back in response and continued on his way.

Delmar Mendoza was another regular in detention, a grade higher than Winnie. He was heavyset, his frizzy hair tugged back on his head in a ponytail, his clothes baggy on his large frame. Winnie considered Delmar a good friend of hers, surprisingly, despite the fact she only saw him whenever she received detention. 

**_Oh, the princess is wounded, by a mere cut…_ ** ****__  
**_  
_ ** _ Sometimes, I really do hate you. _

**_But you love me! I’m hurt._ **

__ When have I EVER told you that I’ve loved you?  
__  
****_Sometimes, it’s the actions that count…_  
**__  
** Winnie couldn’t help but snort at his comment, falling back into her routine. 

Open door, throw bin in can, close door, rinse and repeat.

Winnie loved routine. The thought that something in her life could be consistent was riveting to her. The fact that something could stay the same for God-knows how long was riveting to her, and for the longest, she hadn’t really had a chance to experience that. She hated to admit, but the only consistent things in her life right now  _ were  _ her mother, school and Nightcrawler. But, even then, Nightcrawler didn’t count, considering he wasn’t exactly there by choice in the first place. 

She hated the fact that, as much as she loved it, she wanted something to happen so, so very badly. 

_ Night? Do you ever get the feeling that something’s gonna go really wrong? _ _  
_

**_Explain._ ** ****__  
**_  
_ ** _So, listen-_

“So, are you-”

“Jesus!” Winnie yelped, dropping the bin she just grabbed on the floor, papers scattering all over the tiles. She rushed to her knees, grabbing for them frantically.  
  
“Sorry, sorry!” their voice was nasally, kneeling down in front of Winnie to grab up the mess as well. The boy was rail-thin, his blonde hair a mop on his head. His braces were shiny in his mouth, which seemed all too wide for his face. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“Don’t do that shit,” Winnie shook her head, ignoring his frantic apologies. She had given up putting them back into the bin and that begun balling them up into the can, the boy doing the same. “You’ve been here three days and you’ve already managed to scare the living hell out of me. Good job, Abe.”

Abe was one of the newer members, a freshman, from what she’d evaluated. He was loud and exuberant, with his off-brand humor, but Winnie couldn’t help but feel motherly towards the boy. Sure, he didn’t exactly make his crush on her subtle, but he seemed to do the same to all of the older girls he saw, so she didn’t look that much into it.   


“That’s what I do best,” he skipped past her, reaching for his own caddy and shoving it lightly down the hall.    


“It’s not you, Ackner, Winnie is just a pussy who scares easily.” Winnie glared over at Mendoza, rolling her eyes at his lax smile. 

“He’s not wrong.” Rayman joined in, his tone dry. Rayman was another regular, a boy in her grade, his hair shaggy and his clothes covered in dried paint. “I managed to scare her when I sneezed.”  
  
“You all can go die.” Winnie flipped Mendoza off, trying to fight the smile growing on her face. She closed the final door, wrapping up the usual run they all did. Abe had abandoned his can by this point, walking alongside Winnie, trying to be as slick as possible.  
  
“So, uh, ghosts, right?”   
  
Winnie tried her hardest to ignore the cackle that rang in her ears, her grip tight on the caddy’s bars. “What about ‘em?”

“You don’t think they’re cool or anything?”

“I mean,” Winnie replied, “we used to get out of school early when ghosts came. Now, we rarely do. They’re not so cool, anymore?”

“...What about Danny Phantom?”

__ Danny Phantom almost knocked a hole in my damn house. He never minds his business. He thinks EVERY single ghost-related thing has to do with him, and he literally woke me up from my sleep a few days ago. He’s a piece of sh-  
  
**_Bad words._ **

“I don’t really have an opinion,” Winnie blinked, “I don’t really care for him.”   
  
“You don’t think he’s cool? He’s literally a ghost boy! What isn’t there to like about it?”  
  
_ I’ve been attached to a ghost for two years. TWO. He got the easy route. _

****_Ooh, that stung a little._  
  
“Don’t you have trash to be collecting?” Abe yelped, rushing back to his caddy when he realized that everyone else was already finished. Winnie didn’t even bother looking back, shaking her head at Mendoza and Rayman, the two wheezing with laughter at the encounter. Winnie only shook her head once more, before thinking of the events about to unfold later that day.

Yes, today, Winnie had something to ruin.   
  
\- 

 

Now, Winnie wasn’t ruining her mother’s date for no reason. No, this man, the elusive Ernest Patton, was a mystery. There was almost nothing to his name, at least in the searches, all except for a lone picture in the mirror, his grin crooked. And that gave her very good reason to ruin it. This man? No, he was the devil, as far as she knew. Nothing about him sat well in her stomach. Nothing.  
  
**_Has anybody ever told you you’re insane?_ **

_ So far, only you, actually.  _

Winnie phased through the wall of the Craven with ease, dodging past waiters and chefs in the busy kitchen. The floor was slippery and wet, Winnie trying her best not to slip and blow her cover. The objective was simple - ruin the date. Get home before Mom did, and act like nothing had happened. In fact, she had already been rehearsing the lines in her head, every  _ I’m sorry, that sucks  _ and  _ Oh, really?  _

The restaurant was full of plush, red tables and twinkling lights, the crystal chandeliers dizzying. The windows were long and paneled, the city’s downtown bright and shining from the openings. The Craven was one of the more expensive spots in town, and everyone in the restaurant fit the theme, that was for sure. Every person, alone or not, was dressed in lavish clothing, the men in excessively tidy tuxedos and the woman in sparkling gowns.

**_What do you gain from this?_ ** **_  
_ **

__ A good night’s sleep, hopefully.   
  
Ernest Patton looked nothing like the photo online, that was for sure.

He was a handsome man, sure. He was bulky, with a chiseled jaw that seemed a bit too pointed for her tastes, his hair auburn and slicked. She could see why her mother would find him cute, sure. But, her mother also married her father, so it didn’t really matter in her book. His tuxedo seemed a tad bit too big on him, and he kept fiddling with the silverware, his finger grizzling the side of a butter knife.   
  
To say Daphne Han was radiant was an understatement. Her makeup was flawless, her lips painted the color of coffee. Her dress was black and sleek, cascading down to her bare legs. Her tattoos were exposed, coiling around her neck and arms, her face content and her smile plain.   


_ Oh, bummer, he’s cute. It’s a shame he’s not stepdad material. _

**_I’d let him be my daddy._ **

_ Can you, like, never talk again? _

Winnie took a deep breath before she saw that her feet were off the ground, her body raising higher and higher in the air. No matter how many times she did it, she would never get used to flying, or anything of the sort. To her, it felt like walking on a treadmill, so she often left that part to Nightcrawler, letting him take over momentarily and watching from her own eyes. 

“...Must say, Daphne, you look absolutely gorgeous tonight.” she heard as she made her way to the table, stopping as she hovered closely over the couple. Their table still had only wine, her mother’s half-full and his already downed. The smile he gave was crooked, before he took another sip of his drink.

“Thank you, Ernest,” she thanked him easily, crossing her legs, “This restaurant is so fancy, how did you even get a reservation?”

“Ah, let’s say I know someone,” he joked, “Tell me, how did you end up bartending?”

“I just really enjoy the art,” she shrugged, downing the rest of her wine in one gulp (it was then Winnie realized it was water, not wine), “What do you do?”

“Accounting.” he stated, “It’s boring, I know.” 

“Oh, that’s not boring!” she shooed, “You don’t have any other hobbies?”   
  
_ Is this what adults do on dates? This is boring. _

“I like to fish,” Ernest began, “I grew up near the ocean, in Key West.”

“In Florida? That’s so far!” Daphne chuckled, “I grew up in China, so I really can’t say much.”

Ernest gave a hearty chuckle, “Do  _ you  _ have any hobbies?”

“Me and my daughter rollerblade sometimes. That and I-”

“Wait...you have a daughter?”  
  
“Two, actually,” Daphne answered honestly, “One’s twenty, and my youngest is sixteen. That’s okay with you, right?” Ernest’s eyes glazed over, momentarily, as if he was lost in thought, before he gave a quick head shake.

“No, no, it’s just you look so young!” his cheeks flushed, “Anyways I…”  
  
**_Okay, I’m going to tune this out. What’s the plan, Winifred dearest?_ ** **_  
_ **

_ I was thinking the fire alarm, actually. _ _  
_

**_That’s simple, even for you._ **

_ Maybe I’m feeling simple today. _

“...I can take you home.”   


_ Oh, no. That’s the line for me. _ __  
__  
Winnie began to ascend towards the ceiling, her fingertips touching the fire alarm above. An exhume of smoke poured from her lips, the shill noise piercing her ears the moment it hit the round device. People jumped up with speeds she didn’t know possible, rushing towards the door like a stampede.  
  
“Everyone! Please, exit in an orderly fashion!”  
  
Daphne and her date hopped up, Ernest saying something she couldn’t make out over the clattering of silverware and stomping of feet. Her mother seemed to give a response in return, zipping out of the building and blending into the crowd. Before she knew it, the auburn head was lost as well, and they seemed to blend into the horde, diffusing into the night. 

Winnie phased through the ceiling, into the dark sky above, gliding towards the edge of the building. She peaked over it, staring at the busy bodies dashing out of the establishment. It didn’t take her long until she spotted her mother, standing near a barren tree, standing out in the chilly night.  
  
_ Mission accomplished.  _ _  
_

**_Damn, he was cute too._ **

 

When her mother arrived home a bit past eleven, Winnie had taken her usual spot on the loveseat, a face mask covering her features and a book in hand. “Someone’s home early.”    


“Yea,” her mother flung her coin purse on the counter, flopping on the couch next to her daughter, “He was so...boring.  _ And  _ he stood me up when the alarm went off.”   


“Well, you’re not boring, that’s for sure,” Winnie gave a shrug, “You don’t deserve some dork. You need someone to match...whatever you got going on, there.” her hand made a motion over her mother’s figure, before she turned another page of her novel. 

“Maybe you’re right, Xia,” her mother admitted, leaning back on her daughter’s thigh as she spread out on the couch, “I didn’t even get dinner, damn.”

“Does ice cream count as dinner?”

“It does now.”

**_You’re a little shit, you know that?_ **

_ I hear it twice a day from you. _   
  


-

As far as Miss Han knew, she didn’t know what was coming, not at all.

No, Ernest Patton was a simple man. Everything he had told the lovely woman was true. His hobbies. His interests. He loved fishing, he’d loved it since he was very young. He also loved drinking, he loved vodka and drinks that burned his throat, that made him black out when he was done with them. He loved long, walks on the beach. He loved the beach in general, he had grown up practically on the beach, his mother and father had loved him very much and provided him with all the resources he needed to succeed in life.

The only lie was that he wasn’t Ernest Patton.   


Mick Roth was a simple man, really. He didn’t want success, success was besides the point. He wanted to be  _ seen,  _ to be  _ heard.  _ And if this is what he had to do, so be it. He would go on for as long as he could, so far there had been fifteen. And if there was to be fifteen more, men or woman, so be it. It wasn’t his fault she had children.   
  
It wasn’t his fault she’d end up in a ditch somewhere, either. 

And then, everything shut off.

He didn’t remember blacking out. No, he remembered running towards the doors, then it was dark, the feeling of rushing wind around him. That wasn’t him. Had he drunk too much? All he had was a glass (or two) of wine, it wasn’t anything to make him pass out. He was sure of it. 

When he blinked again, he was in the back of a station truck, his hands cuffed and his eyes blurry.   
  
“Fuck,” he groaned, slamming his head against the headrest, over and over again.  


“I’d be saying that too if I were you.” the officer grumbled, peering at the man in the mirror as he drove to Amity Police Station, “I better be getting a raise for this.”

Mick Roth was a simple man.

-

  
“This just in, the Darly Slasher has been identified and captured, near the scene of a local Amity Park restaurant. More to be given at ten.”   


_ Told you, bitch. _


	3. THE PRETENDER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A family affair.

" _ **Spinning infinity, boy**_

_**The wheel is spinning me** _

_**It's never-ending, never-ending** _

_**Same old story"** _

**- _The Pretender,_  Foo Fighters  
**

* * *

For as long as she could remember, Winnie could never bring herself to find peace in her father.

And the postcards made it harder, as much as she hated to admit.

They came in short bursts, randomly throughout the year, with expansive stories of his travels with Ursula, and the bare-bones questions asking her basic questions such as  _How's school_ and  _Do you have friends at school? How's Casper High?_ that she pleaded her heart to not take seriously, but every time, she did. So, she simply stopped responding most of the time.

For some reason, this time he'd simply sent a envelope with a photograph in it.

The photograph attached was still waxy, the shiny coating bouncing off her lamp's light. The photograph had no writing on the back, no indicator as to where it was located or what the context was, but it's contents were simple.

Ursula's expression was brighter than it'd ever been when Winnie had seen her last, her hair long and frizzy. The dress she wore was simple and her makeup was bland (when was Ursula ever bland?), but her expression told Winnie all she needed to know. Her father was next to her, gangly as ever, his goatee scraggly and his arm tight around Ursula. The scenery around them was bright and glittery, the lights of the streets piercing and gleaming even through the photograph. They looked so, so happy, away from all of this. She should be happy too, she knew she should, but the growing pit that bubbled and brewed in her chest told her otherwise.

She simply slid the photograph under a book ( _The Basics of Skin, Volume Three),_ before crumpling the envelope and tossing it into the garbage bin next to her desk. She knew for a fact she wouldn't pick it back up, not for a long time, but left it there anyways, among the piles of papers and books that lay on her tiny desk.

Winnie did what she did best in situations like this. She took a deep breath, inhale, exhale, before she felt the smoke plume in her body and release, billows of gray surrounding her. One, two, three. This was fine. You'd be fine, Winifred.

Then, she crawled into her bed, pulling the covers tight over her frame. The sheets smelled of smoke and sweet fruits, artificial perfume filling her lungs.

_**Do you want to talk about it?** _

_Not today,_ Winnie replied weakly. They both knew that she'd never bring it up, not again, just as it'd always been. For the first time in days, Winnie slept again, and dreamt of the phantasmagoria of the past, the streets of Buffalo, crusted with snow, and her hand tight with someone she could never see, no matter how many times she turned around.

When Daphne arrived home, a bit passed three, she was surprised to find nothing out of place, not a dish or a pan, and she knew immediately that her daughter had a rough day. She tiptoed around the corner, setting her keys gently on the counter, before peeking into her daughter's room. When she identified the messy mop of curls, she simply closed the door, shutting out the sliver of light that illuminated her daughter's sleeping form. Whatever was on Winnie's mind was for another day, when the sun was shining in her life.

Somewhere down the road, a streetlight bent, curling into the shape of a spiral.


	4. WHEN YOU DIE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winnie meets Ripley Crahan. Things go south very, very fast.

**_revised for consistency on 6/26/19._ **

* * *

 

**_"I'm not that nice_ **

**_I'm mean and I'm evil_ **

**_Don't call me nice_ **

**_I'm gonna eat your heart out"_ **

\- _When You Die_ , MGMT

* * *

 

The week following passed in a whirlwind of color and sound.

The days seemed to mold into the nights, and Winnie often found herself dizzying in and out of the world around her. Sleep came and went, and the bags under her eyes grew darker as time went by. She couldn't figure out what was wrong, the words were always at the tip of her tongue but they grew stuck in her throat and she found it hard to breathe.

"You can always talk to me," her mother had cooed, as she always did, her long, bony fingers rubbing through her tangled mess of curls, "I'm always here."

But, as time passed and the air began to chill, Winnie found the words to be less and less comforting. And when the first sparkle of snow washed over Amity Park that winter, Winnie felt utterly alone, even with the light, hollow thumping of the phantom in her chest.

Detentions became routine. She hadn't minded them much, as much of it was spent listening to Mendoza and Abe's banter back and forth and trying to avoid Mr. Lancer's hawk-like eyes (something about his stares always made her felt so little, which she hated to admit). Yes, even with the oddities and ghosts and ghouls, Winifred Gallows felt as if her life was bland routine.

**_You're looking mighty chipper today, my dear._ **

Nightcrawler's voice was what Winnie could only compare to an oil slick, as she scoffed at her reflection in the school's chipped bathroom mirror. She tugged her turtleneck higher on her neck, ignoring the long, jagged scar that shined in the fluorescent light. Winnie pulled the chapstick out of her pocket, the loose change jiggling soundly, as girls came and went into the restroom. Amber eyes leered back at her, just like they had the year before that and the year before that one. Once upon a time, they were brown, just as her father's, but now they held something more than that.

School had just released for the day, and after what felt like forever, Winnie was serving her final detention. Winnie was slightly ashamed at the fact the week of detention had turned into two (or three), the days piling on as her temper grew more vicious. At first, the sleep deprivation had gotten to her, working its way into her bones, but now she felt more like a pile of bones than anything else.

_Wow, rude._

**_You really need to get more sleep._ **

_You say this like I haven't been trying,_ Winnie huffed, _Do you not have some ghost switch or something that can turn by body off?_

**_Last time I tried that, I got stuck here. So no._ **

Winnie scooted past a group of girls, waving quietly at the one from her statistics class (Sally-Anne? Or was it just Sally) and pushing her way through the crowds of students. Faces, familiar and unfamiliar, flew by, humming a song she had heard her mother sing countless times before. The walk to Lancer's room was fairly short, with her last period being three halls over. She swam through the people rushing to their buses and cars, quietly wishing that she could do the same. But, today was (hopefully) her final detention.

Winnie would miss detention. She'd miss Mendoza's whistling laugh and Rayman's horrible quips, and surprisingly she'd miss the childish flirting she received from Abe. Her and the students of Casper High's detention were one big, jagged mess of a family. There were so many memories, good and bad, that she'd had in that room.

But, she promised herself she'd do better. Her past few stints in detention had been simply because she often found herself barking back and others due to exhaustion, usually Mr. Lancer. She'd miss it all, but when this was all over and her senior year began, she wanted to simply breeze through the year and begin a new step into her future. She'd weaved her way through suspension and expulsion before, but she knew if her health kept declining, it'd all catch up to her eventually.

Most people knew they were near detention when they heard the clamorous sounds of laughter and booming. Most people knew to steer clear, as if there was some sort of plague or disease that had spread through the hallway. But, today, the hall was hushed, as if a storm had passed through. Winnie felt the queasiness in her stomach curdle - she didn't like this one bit.

When she opened the door, she was surprised to see unfamiliar gray eyes staring back at her.

"Miss Gallows. Take a seat, please."

"Yea, yea," she waved at Mr. Lancer, her eyes flickering towards Mendoza. The boy looked as if he had seen a ghost (how ironic), his usually lax posture tense and his face pale. Everyone else talked in hushed murmurs, even Abe had his thin lips pursed, fiddling at the toy cube in his hand. She tried her hardest not to glance over at those eyes as she scooted through the aisles of desks, before finally seating herself next to Mendoza, near the back of the class. Ackner and Rayman sat in the desks in front of them, having a conversation about God-knows what. "You good?" she elbowed him lightly, poking his beefy arm.

"Don't look over there," was all he repeated, a hand fidgeting with his Rolex.

Winnie had to resist peering over Mendoza's frame at the boy a few desks across from her, before recognition zapped through her head, to one of the first conversations her and Mendoza ever had, and it hit her like a truck.

Ripley Crahan never came to detention.

Finally, she leaned forward, peeking over at the hulking boy a few seats across from her. From the side, she could only see his broad, ranging shoulders, his legs jutting out from under the desk like a toy crammed in a toy-box. His features were covered by a slick, dark curtain of black hair. Even now, she could still feel the mirage of his bitter gaze, her chest pounding.

This boy was dangerous. She had seen it, the way he would savagely beat others and the way others cowered like herds of cattle whenever he passed. Memories flicker in her head, Mendoza's bloodied face and broken nose and how he'd vanished for months, then returned as if nothing happened. This room was filled with bad blood, of past and present, and the air felt stagnant.

She remembered that day vividly - freshman year. Mendoza had gotten himself into big trouble with the older kids, and he'd gotten the shit beat out of him as a result. Winnie couldn't do anything but watch as her friend was beaten to a pulp, calling for a teacher, someone, anyone, but having no one answer back in return. Her and Rayman had sat in that nurse's office for what seemed like hours.

_Something's gonna happen._

**_A first grader could figure that out,_** Nightcrawler scoffed, **_I'd stay out of it, just two hours and you're free._**

But she couldn't Winnie knew she couldn't - it wasn't in her nature.

Winnie's vision made a connection from Mendoza to Crahan once more, Abe finally seemed to gain his courage back, flipping around in his desk. "So, last day, huh?"

Winnie nodded, "Thank God, I'm sick of you guys."she exclaimed sarcastically, everyone in their corner snorted, before Abe clutched his chest dramatically.

"You wound me," he gasped, "how could you, fair maiden?"

"You're such a fucking dork, Ackner." Rayman chimed in, shaking his head.

The underclassman had become more bearable as the days passed, and as it turned out, under that layer of irk there was a humorous boy that Winnie thought she just may miss. He gave a wide-lipped grin again, Winnie shaking her head in good humor.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay another day, Miss Gallows?" Mr. Lancer's eyebrow quirked, "If you want I can add another day on…"

"I'm good," despite their jokes, Winnie still couldn't shake the feeling, "I thought you'd be tired of seeing me. Mr. L."

"Maybe," Mr. Lancer opened the novel on his desk, "Maybe."

The light conversation continued on, the corner throwing quips back and forth like clockwork, and before Winnie had known it an hour had passed. "He's creepy," Abe whispered, "he's just been sitting there, dude." The shift had returned once more, and Winnie had almost forgotten that he was there, where she had usually been, his arms crossed. Mr. Lancer had left the room some time ago, probably hiding out in the library or in a conference of sorts.

"Leave it be, Ackner." Mendoza warned, and suddenly he was all tense again.

"What?" Abe propped his elbows on Winnie's desk, "I'm just saying. I don't see what the big deal is."

"Abe. Relax." Rayman had joined in by this point, his expression poignant.

The conversation that followed after was tense, as Mendoza's eyes seemed to flicker over in Crahan's direction every second. Lancer had stuck out, a few minutes ago, as he always had when he had detention with them.

Winnie slapped Mendoza's hand, which seemed to snap him out of it. "You'll be fine. Relax."

Abe seemed to use that as kindle to continue, "Look, I just don't get it, okay? Why are you guys scared of some dude that looks-"

Winnie couldn't help but jump when Crahan seemed to spring to life like the dead, raising from the corner in one fluid motion. His footsteps were loud, his boots clanking against the tile floor. Abe turned the shade of an eggshell, while Mendoza tried his best to keep his expression neutral. Winnie was a tad unsure of what to do, and seemed to be glued to her seat.

Ripley Crahan had sharp features, his nose hawkish and his cheeks high-set. Ripley had a russet complexion and a towering physique, a spasm of freckles dotting his nose and a long, sliver of a scar covering his neck. Everything about him screamed red light, full stop, and Winnie wanted him to do so desperately. He stepped across the room in three long, hard steps, and before she knew it he was leering over them, his large hands gripping her desk. Finally, he spoke.

"Is there an issue?"

Abe shook his head, almost to the point where he was rattling, "Uh, no, well I just thought-"

"You thought. You don't know." Ripley spoke in short, choppy sentences, his tone surprisingly gentle, despite the malice it oozed. Ripley Crahan was the physical embodiment of the word, it seemed, because his stare seemed to travel it's way to Winnie. "This isn't the first time I've heard you say this shit, isn't it, Ackner?" Ackner's mouth opened wide, but no sound came out, his hands raised as if he was about to be struck down. "I need you to shut your fucking mouth before my foot is in it."

"Listen, dude, you need to chill," Rayman had stood up, using his monstrous height to tower over all of them, "The kid-"

Ripley's hand shoved out, pushing Rayman back into his desk as if he weighed nothing. "Shut the fuck up."

"Go away." Winnie found herself saying, "Leave the kid alone, okay? He doesn't know better." Ripley's skin flushed, momentarily, and his thick brows furrowed deep into his face.

**_Oh, you had to go and make things complicated._ **

"Protecting your little boyfriend, huh, Gallows?" he spat her surname with such contempt, as Winnie found herself raising from her seat. Winnie was by no-means tall in any shape or form, and next to the senior she felt so minuscule, but stood her ground.

"How about you go sit down, Crahan?" she continued, "Nobody likes a bully, dickhead." His brow twitched once more, his lips pursed in anger. At this point, he seemed as if he was ready to burst, like an inactive volcano ready to throw ash and lava and destruction upon them.

"I'm no bully," Crahan seemed insulted by the idea.

"I'm not the one using intimidation tactics."

"You're always sticking your nose where you don't belong. Why don't you back the fuck off?"

"Then why don't you get out of my face, Crahan?" she wasn't letting up, surprised at how harsh her own voice was.

There seemed to be a pause that lasted forever, the clock tick, tick, ticking for what seemed like an eternity. Winnie wasn't actually sure how long she stood there, her stare unwavering, her arms now crossed. Finally, Crahan leaned forward, bending down to join Winnie's eye level.

"Fuck you. You don't know me, Gallows."

Before she could respond, the boy made his strides again, grabbing his backpack and marching out of the room, the door rattling shut behind him. Abe finally pushed out the air he had been holding in, Mendoza looking at Winnie as if she had shot someone.

"Why the hell did you do that?"

"He wouldn't leave Abe alone!" she exclaimed, her hand gripping onto the younger boy's shoulder, "Don't do that shit. He is bad news and we don't want you around him. Right?"

Ackner gulped, "R-Right."

**_You always make things complicated._ **

_Don't remind me._


	5. WYRD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winnie dreams of the first time she met Nightcrawler.

" _ **You can't run so you must hide**_

_**You won't make it back this time** _

_**I sold your rope for a bucket** _

_**Of lemon peel, now suck it"** _

_**-Wyrd,** _ **Glass Animals**

* * *

In the night, before the first snowfall of the year, Winnie dreamt of the past.

She remembered the feeling all too vividly, the ripping of her skin and bones, the singe of smoke against her lungs and heart. She found herself trapped, in the blackness of her own self. She had been sleeping on the couch that day, as boxes littered her childhood room.

_**Relax, dear. I just need to take a ride, then it'll be done. Deal?** _

Winnie made no effort to communicate, for she found that her mouth was gone and not her own anymore, and she felt the light rush of breeze, whipping against her bare legs as she rode through the darkness. She felt like a weed's spawn, blowing in the wind looking for its destination, never certain of where it would land. The voice was low, and reminded her of the summer she had spent in her father's boat, looking at the sludge of oil pooling in the water.

The summer before freshman year had easily been the worst of her life. So much had changed in so little time, and she found that as the days passed, it was easier to think of herself as the cause. Everything in her life had boiled over in its pot, the water burning her skin one too many times for her liking. And, now, it was just her and her mother, in an empty house stripped of its photographs and boxes of the past. Even with her mother, she felt so terribly alone.

_**I'm glad you take instructions well. I'll have you home before your family realizes you're even gone.** _

Family.

In Winnie's mind, a long time ago, the word was vibrant, full of life and growing with possibility. Now, it was rusted and twisted and mangled, ready to snap at any moment. Right now, her life was cold and barren. Everything was stripped from her and her mother, and they had to start again. Even in this moment, she could remember Dr. Oxtoa's soft voice from her youth, almost like a lullaby, reminding her of her breathing exercises. She hadn't used them in years, but, these days, she found herself resorting to them more than she liked.

One, two, three…

Inhale, exhale. Everything will be okay.

_No._

_**...I beg your pardon?** _

_I said no. Please give my body back._

Something inside of her being pushed and pushed and pushed, the flickers of reality's strings pulling her back to the world around her.

_**I'm trying to be kind, child. Please don't resist.** _

_No._

It felt as if she was caged, reaching out for the key, her hand just touching the cold metal. Rightfully so, Winnie was horrified right now. She had lived in Amity Park for some time now, and the ghosts here were placid as ever, but the thought of the ghosts of her hometown sent a shiver down her spine. The ghosts back home weren't so nice, or so forgiving, and the thought of being taken by one had been one of her worst fears. This, to say the least, was a nightmare.

She had to get her body back, no matter what it meant.

Whatever this ghost needed or wanted, the blood was on her hands. She didn't want to take the blame for his actions, not now, not ever. To Winnie, ghosts were cowardly creatures. They didn't have to face reality, not anymore, because all they had to do was hide in the shadows. Ghosts were lucky.

 _Please._ She found herself pleading, cringing as fear creeped into her voice and she felt smaller than ever.

_**Please, spare the hysterics. Just a fews more and-** _

Inhale, exhale.

The final snap came before she could stop it.

Winnie was airborne, the blinds seemed to lift from her vision, before slamming into something hard. She felt the wind leave her body, her limbs heavy and her mind clouded. Her body felt like rubber before the feeling finally came back into her legs and arms, her head pounding and the pavement cold against her cheek. Her knees were scabbed and red, skid marks covering her legs. She blinked, once, twice.

There was a second heartbeat, thumping through her veins, her mind racing in circles.

Again, the voice came, seemingly from the shadows of her head, causing her to jump.

_**You little shit.  
** _

Winnie's teeth chattered, as she finally pushed herself up to lean back on whatever was behind her. The cold metal of wiring poked at her back, pebbles pricking her palms and legs. Again, she found herself unable to speak, panic filling her.

_**I know you can hear me. Don't ignore me.** _

_Why are you here? Why won't you leave? Where am I?_

And then, came the burning. Something in her collarbone ached, burning intensely against her skin. Before he could respond, Winnie found herself heaving, before her dinner splattered on the pavement next to her. Her pulse was racing, her forehead suddenly clammy.

_**Ew. That's disgusting.** _

_What did you do?_

_**What did YOU do?** _

_Why don't you just get out? Go back where you came._

_**I can't.** _

The pit in Winnie's stomach seemed to sink. Something was very wrong.

_What do you mean you can't?_

_**I can't leave. Undo this, right now. Whatever you did.** _

_I don't know what I did?_

Another wave of stillness came over Winnie, her figure slumped and her breath heavy. Cars passed by, their lights illuminating the opening towards the street, before they disappeared again. The sky was dark, and the moon shining overhead.

_**You really screwed me over, didn't you?** _

_Excuse me? You're the one that screwed ME over, and now I'm stuck in some ally in a nightgown. Dick._

When no response came, Winnie sighed, fear mingling with irritation.

_I can't undo this, okay? I don't even KNOW what I did._

Silence.

Thoughts rushed through her head once more, anxiety creeping up her chest. What was she going to do? What would she tell her mother? How the hell was she even going to get home?

_Can I at least see you?_

When nothing came again, Winnie found herself seeing red.

_Listen, if you're inside me, can I at least-  
_

_**I can try.** _

Before Winnie knew it, a plume of smoke filled the alleyway, her collarbone burning once more as it billowed around her. She gasped, a swirl of emerald and black filling her vision, before she found herself jumping at the monstrous figure in front of her.

In the blink of an eye, Winnie found herself overwhelmed, surprised at his appearance. His jaw was square, his features masculine and his hair in long curls the color of ink. His eyes reminded Winnie of the violin resin her sister used to use, a shocking amber against his pale, green-tinted face. His clothes were velveteen and dark, his leather jacket fitting on his form. To say the very least, this man was beautifully handsome, the chains of his boots rattling where he stood.

"Better, oh master?"

"Uh," Winnie gulped, trying to compose herself, "Yea, much better." Winnie had only seen glimpses and glimmers of ghosts in her life, but it didn't make this encounter any easier. Not in the slightest. "Jesus, you're huge."

"I get that a lot," he replied, dryly, before flinching when Winnie tried to back away ever so slightly, "Please do refrain from doing that." Winnie found herself hissing as well, the pain searing again.

And then, she looked down.

"What the  _hell_ is that?" she squeaked.

From her marred, blackened skin, there was a thin, black trail of smoke, connecting the bruise to the thin area of bare skin where his was as well. Winnie felt dizzy, trying her best to take deep breaths.

"Ah," the phantom found himself looking down, not even blinking at the teen's panicked state, "that would be the problem."

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. One, two three…

"I'm gonna ask again. What the  _fuck_ is that?"

"You have a potty mouth for a child, you know that?"

"Fuck you!" her eyebrows furrowed, "And, I'm fourteen, asshole!"

"You prove my point," there was humor in his tone, something that seemed to anger Winnie further. Her heart was racing in her chest, still trying to adjust to the new, faint beat in her chest. She had to be dreaming. She'd wake up, and this would all be over, right?

"Please do calm yourself, and I'll try to explain." he couldn't help but feel slightly bad for the child in front of him, her hands digging in her scalp. "As much as I hate to admit it, we're stuck together."

Winnie groaned at that, pressing her back against the wires of the fence behind her. "...How?"

"I've only heard myths in the realm where I'm from, but," he began, "I am what is considered...an anomaly. And when we pass into the realm of the living, at times, that means that anomalies are more likely to happen." he pointed at the string of black connecting the two. "This is one of them."

Winnie nodded, albeit numbly, at the explanation, finally feeling her nerves calm. "Okay. And there's no way to fix it?"

"Not that I know of. The portal to the world I am from is...damaged now. I'm not sure when it will open again." he remembered the split second the portal had opened, and the family's attempts at containing him before he escaped into the dark sky.

"...Are you one of the bad ones?"

The question was so juvenile, something he expected out of a child, but was so raw, her voice filled with nervousness. He was human, once. He felt almost sorry, knowing that this child was bound to him now.

"No," he answered, honestly, "I was human once," he found himself admitting, "I came looking for answers, and you happened to be the nearest vessel." Winnie nodded, once more, but this time she began to sit up again, her arms crossed.

"I have an idea."

The ghost pursed his lips. "Do tell, then?"

"I," she tried to find her words, "don't really have the best life right now. And you're dead, so you definitely don't. No offense." His eyes crinkled at her comment. "I don't have much going for me, right now."

"I'll help." she paused, "I'll be your...vessel or whatever, but on one condition! I want your knowledge, of whatever the hell you are, and whatever the hell you can  _do._ All of it. Or, I can trap you in my head, and you can sit and watch my sorry ass go on with my sorry life right now." she found herself continuing, "I will help you. I  _can_ help you, because frankly, I can't help myself right now. I don't know what you're looking for, but I'm guessing it's something big, right?"

The look in her eyes was hard and the phantom couldn't help but see the insightfullness in her spirit. This girl was quick, calculated - even when covered in her own vomit.

"But, you're a child."

"I don't feel like one, gonna be honest with you."

He recognized the sincerity in her words, weighing his options (or, rather, his lack of none). If this child was his last resort - so be it.

"Deal?" she affirmed, rising to her feet. There she stood, covered in her own vomit and sweat, blood covering her knees and palms. She knew she looked a mess, in her pajamas, her hair wild and untamed. But, he was dead, and she was already halfway there, considering the course her life was taking, so it didn't really matter in her mind.

He found himself bending his knees, slowly, down to her level, his hand cold as ice as he grasped hers. "I do believe we have a deal on our hands."

"Do you have...a name?"

"Nightcrawler."

"No, I mean like, a human name?" Winnie's nose crinkled, "I'm not calling you Nightcrawler. That's a mouthful."

"Adonis, at your service." his smile was crooked, his teeth as straight as can be.

"Okay, Adonis," Winnie found herself drinking in his name, knowing that she'd have to be using it for a long, long time. "I'm, uh, Winnie. Winnie Gallows."

Winnie's eyes never left his when she shook his hand, her grip firm.

_...Adonis?_

_**You haven't called me that since you were fourteen.** _

_This isn't some dream, right?_

_**This is as real as it gets, dear.**_ There was a twinge of sadness, for what reason Winnie couldn't recognize.

_Just making sure._

…  
  


_I'm glad you're still here._

_**Go back to bed, child.** _

Winnie found herself rolling over, pulling her blanket over her neck, brushing against the scar on her collarbone with her fingers as sleep took over her once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would like to say that if you've made it this far, thank you. i've been working on this for a little over three years now, because of my mental health and family issues. i never got around to posting this, because of fear of being judged and fear of what happens next. now, i can post what happens next. thank you all so much.


	6. IT'S A SIN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winnie and Jazz work on their astronomy project. It goes downhill from there.

**_"So I look back upon my life_ **

**_Forever with a sense of shame_ **

**_I've always been the one to blame_ **

**_For everything I long to do_ **

**_No matter when or where or who_ **

**_Has one thing in common, too"_ **

- _It's A Sin_ , Pet Shop Boys

* * *

 

Winnie knew the last few weeks of school were going to be interesting when a street lamp almost fell on top of her.

It was December seventh. There were two more weeks before school wrapped up for the semester, and Winnie's mind had been swamped in finals and last-minute projects. And, to put it bluntly, Winnie was exhausted. She felt a bit better, knowing that her exhaustion was shared with most of the school, but what she didn't share was the mingling, buzzing excitement many of them shared for the holiday season.

_**You haven't said a word to me today, dearest Winnie.** _

_I'm tired as hell, Night. What is there to say?_

_**...Good morning, maybe?** _

He was using that over dramatic, whining tone he always seemed to use, but today, it was especially irritating to Winnie, who mumbled a good morning in response and simply kept peddling, her wheels crunching the snow on the sidewalk.

**_Stop._ **

_What do you mean, stop? I'll be lat-_

The street light came down with a snap, glass and twisted metal shattering onto the sidewalk where she almost was. Her sneaker scraped against the concrete to stop herself, her knuckles tightening against the handle bars. Winnie's heart rate had skyrocketed now, and suddenly, she was wide awake, her chest thumping and her head spinning. She could almost see herself, sprawled out against the pavement, blood mixing with the shards in front of her. The bite of cold was suddenly jumping at her throat, as the girl pulled up her turtleneck further.

**_Are you okay?_ **

Winnie felt frozen in place, her hands shaking and her nerves going haywire.

 _You know what?_ She shook her head, taking a deep breath, _Good morning, times fifty._ Winnie continued peddling, wobbling slightly, trying her best to regain her momentum.

By the time she made it to Casper High, the warning bell had rung to get to class, Winnie lazily chaining her bike and briskly striding inside. Her first period, luckily, was in one of the hallways near the main entrance of the school, Winnie barely making it inside as soon as the bell shrilly rung. Mr. Lancer gave her a lazy look, glancing up from his novel.

"Miss Gallows! Almost late again, I see." Mr. Lancer announced to the class, Winnie rolling her eyes and making her way to her seat, scooting past the other students who didn't even bother looking up.

"Hey, Winnie," her partner for the class, Jazz Fenton, said as soon as Winnie sat down, Winnie waving back in response, "We're just going over our projects today, I think. Do you have any idea what you want to do?"

Winnie and Jazz had been partners the entire year in Mr. Lancer's astronomy class. Well, not the entire year, considering Jazz's original partner had moved away, but it was close. She was a tad uncomfortable with the older girl, considering her history with her younger brother, but realized that the fellow junior meant well for the most part. The class had been relatively easy for the both of them, and it went by quicker when you had someone to talk to - that's for sure. The redhead was a good conversationalist, even if she was snobbish at times, but she was nice most of the time.

"I was thinking what you said yesterday, actually," Winnie admitted, pulling her binder out of her backpack, "It was about Andromeda, right?"

Jazz nodded, "We'd just have to split the work," she gave a blinding smile, "And if you want, you can come over to my house."

**_Are you really about to get us killed over a constellation project? Really?_ **

"That sounds fine by me," Winnie shrugged, ignoring the groan that resonated through her head, "You'd just have to tell me what time." She didn't even bother asking for the address to Fenton Works, considering the giant, glowing sign that was outside of their house.

"I was thinking around six, maybe? It's just...my parents are weird. The ghost stuff they do is freakish."

"Fine by me," Winnie nonchalantly replied, "I think the supernatural is an interesting topic."

**_I've never heard you call me interesting ever. I'm hurt._ **

_Can you not?_

"Really?" Jazz bit her lip, before nodding again, "Okay. I'm sure they won't mind guests today."

**_You're going to get us murdered. You're going to get ME murdered._ **

_I need to get this project done, okay?_

"I'll be over there at six then," Winnie gave a ghost of a smile, trying to ignore the backflips in her stomach at the thought of being found out by Jazz's parents. "We should probably start a plan right now, though."

"Totally." Jazz replied, flipping her hair, "So, I'm thinking that we…"

...

And as the day went by, the feeling Winnie had thought was fleeting grew and grew.

_It's just for like an hour._

**_Ah, yes, I'm going to spend the last two hours of my life in this hellish home._ **

Winnie glanced up at the large building on the corner, the green fluorescent lights of the sign twinkling as she wrapped the chain around her bike. She walked slowly towards the building, wanting to stall time, but remembered her promise and sped up her walk.

She suddenly wished that the lamp had hit her this morning.

_Okay, an hour and thirty, then we're getting the hell out of here._

When she knocked on the door, it flew open almost instantaneously, Jazz standing there with a beaming grin. "Hi Winnie!"

"Hey," she responded, bracing herself as the other girl yanked her inside and slammed the door shut.

"Okay, so my parents are in their lab, so hopefully that means that they won't hear-"

"Jazzy! Is there a guest up there?" Loud heavy steps rang in Winnie's ears, her heart mirroring the noise. "There is! Why didn't you tell us you had a friend over?" His voice was loud and clear, even as he made his way up the basement steps.

Jack Fenton was a huge, hulking man. Winnie awkwardly positioned herself behind Jazz, hoping that he wouldn't recognize her. "Why hello! You're one of Jazz's friends?"

"Uh, yes sir." she answered, "I'm Winnie."

"Wait," another voice made its way up the stairs, and Winnie wanted to back off into a corner and die, "As in Mr. Gallows daughter? Marquis from Axion Labs, right? Jack, this is Marquis' daughter!" Miss Fenton was a tall woman, wiping the sweat off her brow and pulling back her goggles as she reached the top step. Winnie wanted to jump out of her socks, ready to walk straight out of the door. Oh, this was a mistake.

**_Oh. She's a looker, that's for sure. So is her husband._ **

_If you keep this up, I'll throw you down there in that portal. I swear to God._

_**I'm just saying!** _

Mr. Fenton's face lit up, and she found her hand being crushed by his grip in an instant. The look in his eyes as sparkling, something that she remembered he did, even as a child.

"You're Marquis' daughter? I remember when you were a baby! How's he been?"

"You know my dad?" she lied, not wanting to start a conversation about him, forcing herself to be polite.

Oh, yes, she remembered the elder Fentons perfectly. Jack was still as burly as he was when she was a child, remembering how she would peek into her father's study to see the pair chuckling over a bottle of scotch. The visits became less frequent, the older she became, and by the time she was twelve, the couple had stopped coming over all together. And, frankly, for good reason.

"Of course we do! He was a good friend of ours back when he was still here! I remember you, it's been so long, how is he?" She ignored the puling in her chest, swatting it away.

"He's...travelling," it wasn't exactly a lie, "With my older sister, I mean."

"I remember he said he was a traveler," Miss Fenton nodded, "And you didn't go with him?"

_Because I want to be nowhere near that man-_

**_Focus, Winifred._ **

"I had to finish school," Winnie turned to see Jazz, ready to jump in and sweep her up the stairs, "Maybe I'll travel one day."

Yes, Winnie did want to travel one day. Just not anywhere near her father, and preferably in the opposite direction totally.

"Send him my regards!" Jack gleefully replied, "Say, would you like to see our-"

"We have a project to do for school, Dad!" Jazz whined, "That's why she's here."

"Ah, well, I hope when you're done you can look at our new invention!" Jack waved, Jazz grabbing Winnie by her sleeve and rushing her up the stairs.

"I'm so sorry about them, they're so annoying with that ghost stuff I swear!" Jazz slammed the door behind her, a look of irritation washing over her features. Finally, Winnie could breathe again, praying that she wouldn't have to step down those steps before she left. Jazz's room was a barrage of pink, as the two sat down on her bed. Winnie opened her backpack, pulling out her notes and pens as Jazz did the same. "So, you were thinking a poster, right?"

"I stopped and got one from the store, yea," Winnie pulled out the jumbo sized poster she'd stopped and gotten before she arrived, finally feeling herself calm down as the two shot ideas for the poster board back and forth. From then, a routine was made, as they passed markers and pens back in forth, talking about school and the winter break and whatever girls talked about when they were together.

"Hey, Winnie?"

"Yea?"

"Is it true? What I've been hearing about you and Crahan, I mean?"

"...That depends on what it is."

"It was just people had been saying that you guys got into a fight in detention," Jazz restated, "You saw what happened to him the other day, right?"

"...No?" Winnie couldn't help but feel interested, "Do tell."

"Crahan got stabbed," Jazz relayed, "In between lunches a few days ago. Ashley said there was blood everywhere and the kid who did it...Well, it was like he'd seen a ghost."

Winnie couldn't help but feel pity over the situation. As tired as she'd been, she hadn't exactly been into the loop of things, but stabbed? Sure, he was a bully and had gotten himself into some things she wasn't exactly sure of, but she had never imagined him getting attacked by another student in that sort of savage manner. Frankly, she couldn't think of anybody at Casper High that deserved it. She could almost imagine Crahan sprawled out in front of the school, blood thick on his shirt, his head slumped over and his body flopped to the side.

"Do you know who stabbed him?"

"They said it was," Jazz had to think, "Ace? Abel?"

She was suddenly weary, her throat dry, "Was his first name Abe?" The first thing she had to do tomorrow when she went to school was track Mendoza down, and ask what the hell was going on.

"I think so?" Jazz seemed all too nonchalant, "He was a freshman."

"Abe Ackner."

_**Oh, shit.** _

"You know him?"

Suddenly, the feeling was too great for Winnie, and she was overwhelmed with the day that had unfolded. "Jazz." she stood, suddenly, "We can finish this tomorrow in class, right? I need to get home."

"You want me to drive you home?" Jazz had sympathy written all over her face, as Winnie collected her things, shoving them in her backpack.

"No, no," Winnie avoided Jazz's gaze, "I'm gonna ride home. We'll finish tomorrow, see you then?"

"Yea, I'll walk you down." Winnie felt sick to her stomach, almost bumping into the one person she didn't want to see on the way down.

"Oh, uh," Danny was as awkward as ever, "Excuse me."

"Excused." Winnie replied, a wisp of smoke leaving her nose that he seemed to catch, before rushing up the stairs, slamming his room door behind him. Jazz, thankfully, didn't notice the encounter, and watched Winnie from the door.

"Next time, we can meet at the coffee shop if it's easier, I know my family is a lot," Jazz was blissfully unaware of the situation at hand, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Winifred!" Jack stuck his head out of the window above, waving. Winnie couldn't help but wave back, ignoring Jazz's nasty look at her father before she waved at the younger teen as well, before starting off on her journey back home.

For a while, she peddled in silence, absorbing the day she had just had. She almost got her head knocked off. She did the stupidest thing she could've done, and went to the house of the people that would dissect her if they found out who (or what) she harbored. Ackner stabbed Crahan. Ackner, the bundle of sunshine, stabbed someone? What the hell was going on? She couldn't even imagine him with a knife, let alone attacking someone. Sure, he was a little shit sometimes, but he never would've gone this far.

And then there was the Fenton household. God, were they always that perfect?

**_You're jealous._ **

Sometimes, she hated how he hit the nail dead on sometimes. Despite their eccentricities, Jazz had a wonderful family. A whole, complete family - that loved her and was with her and supported whatever she did.

 _...You know what?_ Her back tire snagged a rock, her body leaping slightly. _Yea, I am. I should really stop that._

**_There's nothing wrong with it, Winnie._ **

_It's wrong for me. I have my mom._

There was a pause there. There was an unspoken sentence there - that she had him too. But, she could never bring herself to say that.

 ** _You know, I didn't have my Ma as a kid._** He began, ** _I was an orphan, before the agency noticed me. I know how it feels because sometimes, I see your mom and I get jealous, too._**

_Sometimes you scare me with your words, you know?_

**_I'm wise when I want to be._ **

_There's something going on, I just don't know what. She looked up, slightly paranoid, at the street lights that were beginning to flicker on, I keep telling myself it was a coincidence. But I know it's not. None of this is._

"Hey, Gallows!"

She groaned, skidding to a stop. She turned around to see a streak of green, recognizing that white hair anywhere. He looked slightly disgruntled, an awkwardness to his usual confidence he seemed to carry in that form. The dark head of hair from earlier was replaced with one that was stark white, his eyes glowing green in the night.

"What do you want, Fenton?" there was no bitterness in her tone, only exhaustion, "I gotta get home."

"The ghosts in the portal have been...rowdy lately. My offer is still on the table, you know-"

"No, Fenton. I won't. The last thing I need is some ghosts finding out about us and breaking down my door."

 ** _"She's right, you know."_ **Nightcrawler's voice filled the air, smoke breezing past her face as he appeared next to her, the sharp pain coming and going. **_"I'm still looking for what I need, boy. You wouldn't want someone finding out about your little secret, would you?_** " Winnie could see through his bluff immediately as he glanced down at his black nails, Danny flinching at the threat. His figure was smokey, his black hair curling at the ends like wisps of flame.

"Your secret's safe with me, kid," she inhaled, smoke released from her lungs, "As long as you keep mine."

Danny seemed slightly defeated, but before he could respond, a blue wisp left his mouth, Winnie hacking up her lungs at the same moment. "Gotta go!" he rushed away, an afterimage of green left in his place.

 ** _"Weird kid, isn't he?"_** Winnie jumped as Nightcrawler's arm rested on her head. **_"Mind if I ride on the back? I miss using my legs."_** With the snap of his fingers, it was almost as if he was a normal person, with his handsome, high cheekbones and long dark hair.

"You know you never have to ask," Winnie gave a slow blink, before sitting back on her bike, feeling his heavy weight weigh down the back. "Let's just go home."

"And it's home we'll go." he repeated, as they peddled into the night sky, the clear sky twinkling above and the moon shining as bright as can be.

...

The last few days of school were a blur. And, when Jazz and Winnie finally turned in their project on the last day, Winnie was ready to skip the rest of the day all together and go home. On the last day, students had dressed up as reindeer and elves, the sound of bells jingling through the hallways no matter where she went. Hell, it even smelled like Christmas, even if it was mingled with the usual scent of must and body odor.

"I hope you have a good break!" Jazz exclaimed as the bell rang, rushing out of the door to her next class. Winnie waved and gave a half-halfhearted reply, grabbing her backpack and making her way out the door.

"Winifred."

Winnie turned at the sound of Mr. Lancer's voice, ready to be chewed out for whatever she had done.

"I know you think you're in trouble, Miss Gallows," Mr. Lancer dug through his desk, "But I just wanted you to know that you've had excellent improvement these past few weeks. I know I'm hard on you. But I hope you have a fantastic winter break." Winnie cleared her throat at his words, matching his smile.

"Happy holidays, Lancer." She nodded, making her way out of the classroom. Huh. That was nice of him to say.

**_...Are we still skipping?_ **

_Oh, hell yes we are._ Winnie had practically run outside, blending in with the crowd of students and pedaling away, wanting to get as far away from the school as possible.

The entire way home, she thought of Andromeda, chained to the rocks as sacrifice.

* * *

 

sorry for the delay! i graduated a few weeks ago, and i'm beginning college in the fall - so i finally got around to continuing this story. more to come!

\- mars


	7. CLIMBING UP THE WALLS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winnie meets The Ripper. It ends in disaster.

" _ **It's always best when the light is off**_

_**I am the pick in the ice** _

_**Do not cry out or hit the alarm** _

_**You know we're friends till we die"** _

_\- Climbing Up the Walls,_ Radiohead

* * *

Winnie enjoyed sharing a body with Nightcrawler most of the time.

She could literally turn into smoke at the snap of a finger. She could  _fly,_ which, even though she was afraid of heights (She'd never tell night that, though), was always cool to admit. Winnie could literally turn invisible and phase through walls. Winnie could  _sense_ other ghosts. It was cool, so cool, in fact, that she would turn her hand invisible just to remind herself how cool it was.

"Beware!"

Winnie enjoyed sharing a body with Nightcrawler  _most_ of the time.

She held her tongue, setting her book down and not bothering to glance up at the ghost that had phased through her wall. "Yo, Box Ghost. What can I help you with?"

_**You already know exactly what he wants.** _

_I know I do, dumbass,_ Winnie peeked over at the ghost who was hovering in the corner of her room, his stand wide and his hands outstretched.

"The Box Ghost wonders if you have seen the Ghost Boy!"

Ah, of course. The Ghost Boy. The ghosts really never bothered Winnie as much as him, considering that he was the one that did all of the ghost fighting and all of that jazz. Not her - no, she spent most of her time reading and doing face masks when she got home, not going undercover and fighting ghouls.

"I dunno," she shrugged, "Night, have you seen the Ghost Boy?"

" _ **Don't think I have,"**_ Nightcrawler unsheathed himself easily, the smoke evaporating to reveal his large figure flopped out on the chair Winnie had.  _ **"Hello, Boxy."**_

"You haven't seen the Ghost Boy?" The Box Ghost is slightly off put by the man that has suddenly appeared in the space next to her bed, his head perched on a pillow.

"Haven't seen him since last week," Winnie stretched herself out on her bed, settling herself back in to pick up her novel again, "Try again next week, buddy. Just phase out from the window, though. My mom doesn't like when you fly through the house to get out."

"The Box Ghost agrees to this!" Without another word, there was a wisp of blue where the ghost once was, as if he was never there.

"Is it me or has he been coming by more often?" Winnie turns the page, "Don't say something smart, either."

_**"I haven't really noticed,"**_ Nightcrawler stares at his nails,  _ **"Should we really be worried? The first time he came by you freaked out and almost blew a hole in the wall."**_

"...Touché." Winnie wasn't exactly the most interested in the Ghost Zone. Matter of fact, she  _avoided_ most situations when they attacked. That was Danny Phantom's job - he was the hero, she wasn't.

And just like that, the conversation was over.

That night, or, morning rather, Winnie woke up with the sudden urge to bake.

" _ **Is there a reason why you're up at three a.m., Miss Gallows?"**_

"Not really," she admitted, stirring the cake batter gingerly. There was no preparation, no reasoning behind her antics. "It's not like you sleep. So why are you complaining?"

" _ **You don't exactly sleep either."**_  Nightcrawler had placed himself on one of the counters, his legs crossed as he observed his host.

"Fair, fair," Winnie dug underneath the cabinets, banging pots and pans together, the reverb carrying through the house. "It's just one of those nights, I guess." She set the flat pan onto the counter.

" _ **Yes, because making an almond cake at an ungodly hour is normal."**_

Winnie stood back up, cracking her back, before clapping her hands together dramatically. Smoke began to billow from her palms, before she took one big, steady breath, the dark smog swirling back into her lips. "Is  _that_ normal enough for you?"

**_"You are such a little shit sometimes,"_**  he snorted,  ** _"Go back to your baking."_**

Winnie gave one last long, hard glare, before turning back to her mixture. The kitchen was illuminated blood red, the fluorescent light of her mother's lamp. The low hum of the air conditioner filled the room as the pair fell into a routine of silence, Winnie finally pouring her mixture into the pan.

"Did you know today makes two years that you decided that you wanted to crash test my body around the city?"

" _ **...Really."**_

"Yes, really," Winnie pushed the pan into the boiling oven, "How do you forget something like that?"

" _ **Time works...differently when you die,"**_ Nightcrawler explained, watching the girl toss the bowls into the sink.  _ **"It just sort of flies. I didn't realize what year it truly was until I left the Ghost Zone."**_

"Did you just not ask anyone for the year, maybe?"

" _ **Let's say I wasn't the most social spirit in the Ghost Zone."**_

Winnie only nodded at the comment, remembering how terrified she was of Nightcrawler when the two began residing together. The ghoul didn't really speak much, in the beginning, and only really came out of wherever the hell he was in his head whenever there was an emergency. He was an asshole - an even larger one than he was now.

"You used to scare the hell out of me."

_**"I get that a lot."** _

Another comfortable silence came over them, before Winnie finally found her words. "Do you wanna start looking again?" The air became chilledonce she said those words, and Winnie couldn't bare to look back at the man.

_**"The last time was a bust."** _

"Doesn't mean this time will," Winnie turned the water on, pulling out a dishrag, "We have three weeks to get it right. Or at least get  _some_ of it right."

_**"She's changed her name. She could be right under our noses and we wouldn't know, Winnie."** _

"That doesn't mean we can't  _try,_ Adonis." her eyebrows furrowed, "Like I said. We have three weeks, and that's more than enough time to keep looking. I'd be able to get more information if you  _told-"  
_

" _ **I can't tell you. You know this."**_

"I just don't get  _why!_ " Winnie exclaimed, "If we're in this together, why can't you tell me?"

" _ **There are some things you shouldn't know."**_

"Like what?"

She was greeted by reticence once more, groaning and scrubbing the bowl harder. "You are such an ass sometimes, you know that? I wish I could drag your ass back to the Ghost Zone, sometimes."

_**"Be careful what you wish for."** _

"Are we talking in cryptic messages, now?"

Silence.

"Night?"

Winnie shivered, feeling a cold, unsettling feeling come over her. She hadn't meant to make him mad - at least not this time.

"Do you believe in fate, Miss Gallows?"

Chilling. That was the only way Winnie could describe the voice that ripped through the air, dropping her dish towel and flipping around instantly.

"...Adonis?"

Her companion had vanished in plain sight.

"I take it, you don't?"

"Who are you?" Winnie tried to control the shaking of her tone, feeling smoke wither from her fingertips.

"Come, have a seat." Winnie's legs felt like gelatin as she felt them creak, ever so slowly, towards the figure, shrouded in darkness. She couldn't control herself, not right now, trying her best to struggle free as she flopped down onto the comforter, glued to her seat.

Across from her, encased in red, was a thin man. Their skin was a sickly shade of olive, his face taut and his eyes heavily lidded. His long legs protruded from his torso, his stance wide and his hands resting over his knees. His eyes were the color of blood orange, his expression placid and his figure slouched.

"You have a nice house," he was soft-spoken, "I didn't imagine that I'd find you here, that's for sure. I expected someone older but," he reached up, touching the picture frame on the wall, "You seem adult enough."

Winnie couldn't speak, her throat dry and her brain running a mile a minute. She had to get out. They had to get out. She looked down at her feet, trying her best to wiggle her toes and see if she could make a break for it.

_Adonis?_

"He won't answer you," Winnie's head snapped up, "He's right here."

Nightcrawler was suddenly seated next to him, his lips thin and his face plain, fear radiating from his body. He shook, ever so slightly, his eyes pleading as they bore into Winnie's. She couldn't move, she hadn't dared and she could feel something electric pulsing through her veins.

"Who...are you?" Winnie's voice came out softer than she'd liked it to, "What are you?"

"Now you're asking the hard-hitting questions," he chuckled, his laugh throaty, "I'm a ghost, I swear." he patted the larger man on the back as if they were companions, "Just not as human, mind you."

"...Okay." Winnie acknowledged, trying to keep her composure, "Then answer the 'who' part."

"I'm getting to that, young lady," he held up a bony finger, "Let me explain myself first." he clapped his hands together once more, "I am what you could call a 'collector' of sorts. Like when you owe a...debt. In the Ghost Zone, I am the one who controls these 'debts' from other ghouls," he extended his hand towards Nightcrawler, "Such as Mister Brun here."

"Now, I'm not a monster. I don't expect everyone to pay these 'debts' off in due time, because that's unfair, is it not?" He paused, before Winnie realized he was expecting a response. "Answer, my dear. A child is supposed to listen to adults, are they not?"

"Right."

"Mister Adonis Brun has been one of my shining clients, you see. I granted him a chance in this realm. So, I've given him that chance. And now, that time is up."

"...What?"

"It's simple," he crossed his legs, placing his hands on his kneecaps, "I'm not very big on specifics. And, I've deemed that his time us up."

The previous week flashed in Winnie's head. The sounds of shattering glass and twisting metal.

"You're the asshole that dropped the streetlamp?"

"Language, young lady!" he gasped, "I had nothing to do with that."

"That was simply a freak accident. My job has no accidents, I do everything as it should be, when it should be. In fact, I'd say everything I've done is perfect so far up until this moment."

"Nothing in life is perfect." Winnie spat, trying her best not to panic.

"Well, I know that now, don't I?" the man tilted his head, "I do believe I've forgotten to introduce myself. I have an official title, but I don't think you'd remember it. Most people just call me The Ripper." he leaned forward, extending a long thin arm towards Winnie.

Winnie felt grounded again, her eyes flickering from Nightcrawler to this new entity. Ever so slowly, she reached forward, trying her best to steady herself. Her head felt hazy, her mouth felt like cotton and she felt as if she was on a roller coaster.

_**"Don't touch his hand."  
** _

Winnie snapped her hand away immediately at Nightcrawler's words. The euphoria drained away in an instant, and Winnie fell into her trepidation again. She was terrified. She'd never admit it, but she was absolutely scared shitless. She'd kept her distance from the Ghost Zone. This was the last thing she'd wanted.

"Why?" she asked. "Why'd you pick now?"

"Why now?" The Ripper repeated, "Well, why not?" he gave another chuckle, "He's been here long enough. And you.."

"What about me?"

"You're not exactly who I had in mind to be accompanying him. You have spunk, I'll give you that."

"Fuck you."

"Point proven." The Ripper stood up, his suit illuminated in crimson. "You're a child. And I'm sick of watching you two have your father-daughter parenting moments and kindhearted afflictions."

Winnie bit her lip, pressing herself to not make a comment. She jumped when he clapped his hands, the loud noise whistling through the house.

"Let's make this an easy process, yes? I take him and you go back to your daily life."

"He  _is_ part of my daily life, jackass."

The man only chortled again, before settling his hand on Nightcrawler's broad shoulder. "It's a pity that you decided to hide with a child. What if I had brought in reinforcements? We don't need anymore ghosts now, do we?"

_**"Go to Hell."** _

"This is anything but that," The man's palm began to glow the color of plum, a pained look on Nightcrawler's face. "Any last goodbyes to the young lady?"

" _ **A bit too soon to say goodbye, isn't it?"**_

Winnie snapped her attention towards Nightcrawler once more, searching his sign for any indication of what was about to happen. This couldn't be happening - not now.

_What're you planning?_

_**Watch.** _

The Ripper gave a slow, creeping smile, his teeth perfectly straight. "I guess you're right. It was nice meeting you, Miss Gallows. I hope to see you in the near future."

What followed next was a slow, rippling pain. Winnie moaned in pain, hobbling up to stand. "Adonis!" She cried, feeling the border of her chest ripping and tearing. There was an audible snap in her mind, like a rubber band, before the torment ceased. Winnie felt her body tense and she was on the floor before she knew it, her head hitting the carpet.

"This is interesting." Winnie's vision swirled like a merry-go-round as she saw double, watching as The Ripper popped up next to her. "Interesting indeed."

"You could've at least warned me," Winnie groaned, clutching her head with one hand, "Adonis, what the hell?"

_**"I told you watch and wait."** _

"You could've had a countdown or something, you ass!"

The Ripper released his hand from Nightcrawler's shoulder, before staring down at his own hand. "I see we've encountered a problem, Mr. Brun."

" _ **I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet."**_

"Hm," The Ripper's eyes flashed with realization, his mouth open wide, "Ah! I see what you've done. Clever boy." His teeth were serrated and stark-white against his skin, rows and rows filling his jaw. Winnie dragged herself off the carpet, her legs wobbling as she sat upright.

Nightcrawler pointed in Winnie's direction, not moving from his spot on the couch.  _ **"Blame her, not me."**_

"I wish he was dragging your ass back now, not gonna lie."

The Ripper huffed in surprise and slight irritation, "This wasn't according to plan." He shook his head.

"No shit." Winnie had finally found her balance again, taking another deep breath. Nightcrawler drifted next to her, perching himself on the side of her chair. "Shoo, dude." Winnie swatted, averting her attention back to The Ripper. She had pulled herself together, her hand rubbing through her curls. "Can you just leave? It's not going to work."

" _ **I have no reason to not agree."**_

The Ripper gave one slow blink, then another, before he sat back on the couch, crossing his legs again. "I see."

"Do you really?" Winnie muttered, glaring at Nightcrawler when he slapped the back of her head.

"I have done this for two hundred years," The Ripper sighed, "And I have never dealt with some shit like this." The chipper quality to his tone dipped into something darker, the lines on his face illuminated in red. "You make everything difficult, don't you, Adonis?"

" _ **She makes things difficult, not me."  
**_

"Miss Gallows," Winnie tensed at the use of her surname, "You're something of a myth in the Ghost Zone. The Ghost Boy is real, we see him constantly, and I watch with others as he sends us back where we came. But you," he watched the teen carefully, "are something of a tall tale. There have been legends, yes, but you are something of an anomaly."

Winnie didn't like where this was going at all.

"I feel like it's my job to rip you apart. Simple," The Ripper shrugged as if it was the easiest concept in the world, "There's no place for the unusual in our world."

"Ghosts aren't unusual to you?"

The Ripper's eye crinkled in surprise, "You're a smart one, huh?" His legs uncrossed, his feet planted firmly on the floor, "There are two things that make sense in this world - ghosts and the living. The in between doesn't make sense because it has no place. The Ghost Boy is not one of a kind - there are others just like him out there. But you...You are something I have never seen before."

Winnie couldn't help but feel her heart skip a beat. "That's why you must go, no matter the cost. You will not know when, or how, or what is coming your way." The man stood once more, patting imaginary dust off his trousers, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gallows. But I have other matters to attend to."

The man was encased in a shroud of violet, before he gave a wave of his hand.

"Nice meeting you."

There was a sharp pop and suddenly Winnie could breathe again. For a while, she didn't know what to say. All she could do was sit, processing everything she had just learned.

"Adonis."

" _ **I,"**_ the ghoul admitted,  _ **"I couldn't be honest. If I was then-"**_

"Then he'd appear." Winnie blinked slowly, "God, my head is killing me."

Nightcrawler pressed a cold hand against her head,  _ **"Sorry about earlier."**_

Winnie was suddenly exhausted, her limbs slack and her jaw weak. The pain that seared through her earlier was something she had only felt once before, her mind flashing back to that windy night. "I think I'm just gonna take the cake out and go to bed."

" _ **The cake isn't even done baking."**_

Winnie gave a scalding look. "I really don't care right now, Adonis."

The cake deflated the moment she took it out of the oven.

When she tucked herself under the covers, she let out a shaky breath. "What now?"

Adonis gave no answer as the arms of sleep hit her like a truck. The answer was all she needed. They needed a plan.


End file.
